Cross Your Heart
by BryWrites
Summary: "There's a million ways to make a promise." A dozen little moments that make up a life of a genius who loses his way and poet who finds him time and again. Reid/OC [A companion piece to "The Keeping of Words" because the show is ending and I have all this unpublished writing!]
1. Bleeding Heart

**Author's Note: To**** anyone new, this is a companion piece to my older Reid/OC fic "The Keeping of Words." I suppose you don't have to read that one first if you don't want to, but I doubt this will make much sense without context! (TL;DR: Reid meets a soon-to-be lawyer who understands the heaviness he sees. A love story ensues. Until it doesn't. But broken hearts and broken promises can still be mended.)**

******_Criminal Minds _is ending soon, and I realized I had this long document of "deleted scenes" I couldn't seem to fit into the original fanfiction or short drabbles I'd used as writing warmups, and figured I may as well do something with them!  
And to anyone who for some reason put up with me for 50+ chapters and has a desire to read these extra words, here they are! Little moments I couldn't make work originally but really loved anyways. It'll follow chronological order but won't have the same amount of context/direct plotline TKOW had. It's more just a series of snippets and drabbles.**

* * *

Central Park was crowded, as it always was during the lunch hour. In the midst of its bustle sat Bianca Brown, in a towel in the grass, sipping green tea. Beside her, her friend Maggie was spinning the fascinating tale of how she and her boyfriend had snuck into a yacht club party last weekend.

"I swear, I've never struggled with keeping a straight face so hard in my life," she laughed. "That's what I love about Rishi. He makes me feel so alive."

"That's good," Bianca said, nodding, offering a half-smile.

Maggie raised an eyebrow. "Are you listening, Bianca? You've got that look in your eye."

"What do you mean?" she asked, a little defensive.

"You're usually such a good listener, it's not hard to tell when you've gotten lost in your own thoughts. I know you. What's on your mind?"

Unable to deny it, she stared towards the Park Drive, where bicycles and carriages were hurrying past. The squeaking of wheels, the rhythmic clopping of the horse's hooves. If she tried hard enough, she could almost make a melody out of it. Anything to distract herself from the doubts she was afraid to admit out loud.

"I don't know," she said, with a noncommittal shrug. "I guess I just sort of feel like the odd person out. You and Rishi have been pretty serious for a while. Nathaniel and Damien are engaged. And Sarah-Jane is even seeing someone now." All this time, she'd thought that she and her social worker friend would be the last two holdouts on the romance bandwagon, but suddenly she found herself standing alone, surrounded by happy couples. "I sort of have this feeling like, _what am I doing?_ Why haven't I found that?"

Maggie gave her a stern look. "You're doing plenty. You have an incredible job! You're making it in the city! You're very accomplished."

That was just the problem. Work had been much of her life for the last few years. She was focused on paying off tuition, getting her book published, and finding a job she loved. All of which she'd managed to do, but she couldn't help feeling that something was missing. Perhaps there was a part of her that would always be a hopeless romantic. After all, she was a poet. It was practically a prerequisite to have a heart that longed for love. Her work was important, and she was proud of it, but she wanted someone to share her life with. Someone to sit and read in Central Park with, someone to hold hands with on the subway. She wanted to do all the cute couple-y things she'd witnessed in New York, but somehow could never picture herself in that scene. Nor had she met anyone she wanted all of those things with.

Did that mean she was destined to remain familiar with this lonely feeling?

"I just feel like I should've met somebody by now. I mean, I've gone on dates, but I haven't seriously dated anyone since college, really. Even then, they were never relationships that lasted long. I just haven't had the time." She paused, an epiphany arising. "Is that the problem? Have I let all the best chances pass me by?"

"Come on, now!" Maggie smacked her shoulder lightly. "That's just ridiculous. We're still so young. You're going to find somebody when the time is right."

Lying back on the towel, Bianca rolled her eyes. That's what everyone always said. Would the time ever really be right? What if she ended up alone forever? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if she loved her job. She could be okay being one of those women married to her work, she tried to tell herself. Flying in from some random city on holidays to visit her friends who would be settled down with kids. Telling stories about her travels, leaving in a rush because some important emergency demanded her particular expertise.

If what she was doing mattered, maybe she could be okay with that. Alone in an apartment in a beautiful cities, surrounded by her many books. Would it be so bad, to know she'd devoted time that would have been given to a partner to doing good in the world? But something still ached in her chest. There was still a part of her that longed for that kind of love. But she was going to be 25 in just two weeks. Time was moving quickly. Maybe she just wasn't meant for that kind of love. Maybe the fears she harbored were correct, and she simply wouldn't ever be enough for someone, not in that way.

Above the trees of the park, planes flew in and out of view. Time flying. People coming and going. Bianca closed her eyes. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, to be alone. Maybe she wasn't missing out on that much after all. She was happy with her life, wasn't she? That could be enough. It would have to be enough.

* * *

She was trying to focus on the report in front of her, she really was. But in the adjacent conference room was the BAU team, and she couldn't help but catch glimpses of him out of the corner of her eye. Long, messy hair. Sharp jawline. Wiry frame. He really was beautiful. And every time she looked at him, she found herself thinking back to their conversations, all the kindness in his words.

It had been nearly four days since the agents had first arrived in New York to help them in their search for Wilson Okello, a Ugandan warlord who would supposedly be arriving in the city within the week. They had been profiling his behavior, all his known associates, and analyzing the most likely outcomes. Of course, between the work, there was some time for mingling. At dinners and over coffee and when they were paired up with someone from the other team. Three times now she'd had the chance to work with Dr. Spencer Reid, and she couldn't say she minded it much.

"Oh no." Startled back into the present, Bianca turned to Kana, the only other person in the room, only to be met with a hard gaze.

"What is it? Is something wrong?" she asked. Maybe Kana had found something in the old International Criminal Court documents. "Something in the reports?"

"No. Something with you."

"Me?" She was taken aback. Kana Mogami could be blunt, a little harsh at times, but she was never deliberately mean. Over the last few months, she thought they'd kindled something of a friendship together in the office.

"You keep looking at him, and not in the way one looks at a colleague," Kana remarked, nodding her head towards the glass through which the other room was visible. "Don't do this."

Was this about workplace romances? On the defensive, she tried to backtrack. "I-I'm not! I mean, I'm not going to do anything. I just think he's interesting, that's all." She knew better than to get involved with a colleague, especially one who was only consulting on a case. Not that she actually thought she would have had any chance at that sort of thing to begin with.

"That's not what I see. There's too much longing there. Too much curiosity." Kana crossed her arms, leaning back in the chair. Her posture was casual, but the tone of her voice was firm steel. "You don't want to get involved with a man like him."

"A man like him?" Bianca echoed. It seemed highly improbable that any other man like Dr. Reid even existed. Never had she encountered another human being quite like him. After only a few days together, she was utterly enchanted by him.

Enchanted. Fascinated. That was all.

"I've worked with men like that," Kana replied. "You don't know what you're getting involved with. With a job like that, he's bound to have problems. Nobody gets into work like that casually. And once they do, they're never the same. Could you really do that? The strange hours, the absences for days on end?"

"We're just talking! I'm not planning a life with him." As much as they'd been talking, she still hardly knew him. Kana's inquiry felt suddenly invasive and intrustive.

But she wasn't done yet. "Do you have any idea what sort of things they see on a regular basis? Sure, we see plenty of horrors in our human rights reports, but we get photos. Videos. They see crime scenes in person. They talk to killers. They try to understand them. Can you imagine what that does to a person? The trauma, the nightmares they must experience?"

Dr. Reid had alluded to it, yes. Bianca swallowed hard, forcing herself not to look through the glass. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because I know you," Kana said. "You have a bleeding heart, and you want to help. That's not a bad thing. But you cannot fix something like that." Despite there being nobody else in the room, she leaned in conspiratorially, afraid some invisible entity might overhear. "I heard one of their team lost a significant other recently. She was murdered by someone they'd put away once before."

Was that what he'd referenced last night? They had been standing together, watching Hotch. Jokingly, she had asked if he ever smiled. Reid had gotten serious, and mentioned that the job had taken a lot away from him. Would it be dangerous, to be involved with someone like that?

"I wouldn't try to fix him," she said. "Just… I mean, maybe with a job like that, it wouldn't hurt to have another friend. Someone to talk to. If we both deal with terrible things in our work, maybe we could help each other."

Kana just shook her head. "You don't get it. This isn't some _troubled _boy. Or a pet project. There are no band-aids or magic words here. That man has seen things. You can tell when you look into his eyes." His eyes. They were hazel and soft and she'd been looking into them plenty. "If you try to save him from whatever demons he's running from, you're only going to get hurt. I don't want to see that happen." That was as close to sentiment as Kana had come in their time together, and it caught her off guard.

Would it really be so terrible, to be close to somebody like that? They all had demons, herself included. Demons from which she had run far, far away from and vowed to never return. Surely it would be worth it, to be close to someone like him?

The way he talked about books, as though they were old friends. The way a smile changed his face entirely. The way he'd put his hand over hers when they were talking and she was starting to get upset. It had been so small, and so brief. But so comforting. And she'd realized by now that he didn't take physical touch lightly.

All of their conversations were so easy. It was almost effortless, and she wanted to hold on to that strange magic of knowing all the right words to say. He would just be a friend. She could handle that. After all, they lived in different cities. Nothing serious would happen. Just two friends, with similar interests.

"You want to help people, I get it," Kana continued. "That's what makes you so good at this job. We need human rights advocates and lawyers to keep caring. You can fix things in this world, with enough time. But you can't go fixing something like that."

It didn't seem fair, that he and his team should be doomed to struggle in the dark alone. Was the path of the hero meant to be lonely? The thought of Dr. Reid, lonely at the end of the day, twisted something in her chest. She didn't want that for him. She didn't want someone so good and so sweet to be feeling such emptiness.

It would be professional. Amicable. Friendly. That's all.

Her phone pinged, and Kana glanced down at the notification. "Dr. Baker wants to see me," she announced. Their boss was one of the few people who could draw Kana away from a debate. "You stay here. I'll be back in a few minutes. And Bianca? Promise me you'll stay away from him?"

Kana hadn't worked her way to the pinnacle of the legal world for nothing. A single look from her could be incredibly persuasive, and she refused to back down until she received the answer she wanted. So Bianca offered a half-hearted nod, and watched as she left through the double doors.

It would be just as easy to stay away from him, wouldn't it? Surely she would forget him in a few weeks. That voice, those eyes, the things he'd said. It would go away, with time. For what reason would he need someone like her in his life? Especially if she were a few hundred miles away. Kana was wise, she knew what she was talking about. If she said to stay away from him, that's what Bianca would have to do.

No matter how much her heart cried otherwise.

She wasn't looking to fix him. Maybe not even to save him. But that smile, she wanted to save that smile. If she could just ensure that he would have a reason to keep smiling and laughing despite the happiness his job stole, that would be enough. She could save his kindness. His hope. Maybe, just maybe.

What _had_ he seen? What had he been through?

In the room across, the BAU members were all standing and beginning to file out the door. Reid was the last one out. Through the glass, he caught sight of her. Turned. Raised a hand. And grinned at her.

She smiled and waved back, her eyes not leaving him until he vanished through the doors. Her heart fluttered. There was a flush in her cheeks she couldn't force away, one that only intensified when he reappeared through the doors to the conference room she was in.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

He nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. You seemed a little upset last night, when we weren't able to make any progress on the case."

Had he been paying attention to her? Then again, he was a profiler. It was probably second nature to him.

"I was just frustrated. I'm okay though. Thanks for asking." The agents had been at things like this much longer than she had, and she didn't want to appear unprofessional in front of him. She could handle herself. She could compartmentalize if she needed to. "I'm sure this isn't the first case to not quite go as planned."

Reid bit his lip, looking away, and she wished she could take the words back. "There are far too many of those," he said. Maybe Kana was right. There were things he'd seen that she could never understand. What made her think that he would even want someone like her in his life? She was being silly, getting attached too quickly, as usual. But she couldn't stand to see that far-away look in his eyes, his face veiled with a sadness she'd put there.

Why did she feel so responsible for him?

"You know, it's still early, and Dr. Baker isn't gathering everyone for another half-hour. Do you wanna go grab some coffee?"

And just like that, the smile returned. Bianca let the tension fall from her shoulders, relieved. "I would love to," he replied. He held the glass door open for her, and as they started down the stairs, she was acutely aware if his presence behind her. Listening for each footfall as he followed her down. Making sure he was still there.

Maybe she wouldn't be able to keep that promise after all.

* * *

For almost a week, he kept looking at the note with her phone number on it. Trying to get up the nerve to actually call her. Six times he'd dialed the number before panicking and canceling the call. It was so simple. Reid had done a million things harder than that, hadn't he? Stared down serial killers. Solved impossible puzzles. Gotten sober. Survived getting shot. And drugged. And subjected to anthrax. And yet, calling a girl seemed to be the one thing he couldn't manage.

Why was this so difficult? Maybe he was afraid of rejection. Maybe he was afraid of being hurt. Maybe he was afraid of hurting her. This life wasn't for everyone. He'd seen what it did to relationships – only JJ and Will seemed to make it out unscathed, but then again, Will knew the work well.

In his memory, she was so bright. Her smile, her kindness. How could he ask her to deal with the horrors he'd signed up for? How could he subject her to the sort of darkness he'd seen? He was damaged and he was flawed and he wasn't at all the sort of person who got happy endings. He didn't want to see that light dimmed by his own struggles.

She deserved better than that, didn't she? Better than someone who lived so far away and fought off nightmares more than once a week. He would have to be happy with the memory of her, of those warm eyes and a gentle voice and the way she'd wished better things for him.

If there was one thing he knew, it was that good things had a way of falling apart when they found their way to him. Reid took the paper from the drawer in his desk and held it in his hands for a long moment, allowing himself to imagine what could have been. If only things were different, if only he were different, if only he were not himself and someone better instead…

He dropped the paper into the recycling bin.

It was better this way.

No sooner had he done so did his phone ring. It had to be a case. He sighed, pushing the thoughts out of mind. "Reid," he answered, trying to sound professional.

"Hi, um Dr. Reid? This is Bianca Brown." His heart nearly stopped at the sound of her voice. "From New York?" She sounded nervous suddenly in the pause, as if she had made a mistake.

Reid frantically tried to compose himself in time to reply. "Bianca, hi!" He hoped he didn't sound as desperately happy as he felt. He could be calm about this. "I was, uh actually thinking about calling you," he lied. Well, it was only a half-lie. He'd been thinking about it nonstop for the last week and had only just decided against it. But he wanted her to know he was glad to hear from her. He asked her about the case and its aftermath, still too afraid to venture into the personal and step into this vast unknown thing he wasn't sure he should dare touch.

But then she said, "It made a difference to me." And the softness of her voice outweighed all his prior fears. He wanted to keep hearing her voice. He didn't want to eliminate all possibility of never seeing her again. Maybe he could be different. For her, maybe he could _be_ better. Maybe he could manage to hold just one good thing together.


	2. Deeper

Hotch explained to him, in no uncertain terms, that he _had _to take a vacation. Despite not wanting to leave work, apparently there were rules about such things. He hadn't used a vacation day in so long, because he hadn't needed to. He always tried to pass them along to someone else, but it seemed word had gotten around, and the brass wanted him to take three days off.

Reid had no idea how he was going to spend seventy-two hours away from work and away from his friends. His only friends were _at_ work. Well, except for one. He relayed the information to Bianca in one of their phone calls, asking her for ideas on how to pass the time. A request he figured would be met with book suggestions, or something of the sort.

What he wasn't expecting was for her to ask, "What if you came up here, to New York?"

To say it caught him off guard was an understatement. "You mean to New York City? To see you?"

"Well, only if you want to!" she added hastily. "It was just an idea, but you probably don't want to co-"

"No, no! Actually I would, I would love to. It, uh, it would be nice to see you face to face again. It's been a while." Two months, two weeks, and five days, to be exact. He was absolutely counting. Not a day went by that he didn't think of her or long to hear her voice on the phone once more. Bianca Brown had a strange hold on his mind, and it wasn't until she made the offer that he thought perhaps a vacation might be nice.

After booking a hotel down the block from her apartment (she'd insisted he could stay with her, he was afraid to impose) and purchasing a plane ticket, he packed up what he would need for two days – mostly books – and caught the earliest Friday morning flight to New York. The ride was plagued with worries and doubts. They had connected so effortlessly while they worked the Okello case, but what if that was a fluke? What if talking on the phone was the only way they communicated well? What if he got to New York and they spent the weekend in an awkward silence – or worse, what if she asked him to leave?

People of all ages milled about in the arrivals terminal, but he soon spotted her sitting on a bench near the escalators, staring absentmindedly at her phone, likely waiting for him to call. Reid had had enough of communicating over the phone. They were finally in the same place, so he walked over to her instead. At the sound of footsteps, she lifted her head, a smile spreading across her face. He'd never understood the phrase "their face lit up" until he saw the way she looked at him. There was no other expression that made sense – she positively shined with happiness, and never had he expected someone would react that way to _him_.

"Spencer!" She stood from the bench, a little uncertain of how to greet him. A handshake felt too formal. A hug, too familiar. They left an awkward space between them as he shoved his hands in his pockets and she placed hers on the straps of her backpack. "It's really nice to see you," she said.

"Y-you as well. Actually, there are several psychology studies suggesting that the positive emotions one feels after a meaningful conversation in person are reduced when the communication takes place solely through calling or texting." Mentally he scolded himself for already going off on a tangent. Bianca didn't seem bothered by it though.

"I guess it's good you're here then," she said.

They took a taxi to the hotel he'd be staying at, so he could drop off his things, then he walked down the block to meet her at her apartment. It took a few deep breaths before he found the courage to knock on her door, but she answered almost immediately.

"Come on in! Coffee's almost ready. It's still early, and I suspect Delta doesn't provide the best of caffeinated drinks?"

"You suspect right," he laughed. The smell of fresh coffee hung in the air as he looked around the small apartment. There were pictures, presumably of her friends and family, hanging on the walls and resting atop end tables. Paintings and decorations from various cultures, a thick quilted blanket on her sofa, and sure enough, the poem about the starfish taped onto the back of her door. How wonderful and strange it felt to be let into her life like this after only imagining it for so long. He fought the urge to profile her based on her home. He wanted to know her, and allow himself to savor that process, like taking one's time unwrapping a gift.

"So where do you want to go first?" she asked, handing him a warm mug.

"To be honest, I don't really know where to begin," he said.

Bianca tilted her head, studying him as she took a drink of coffee. "Well you like stories. So definitely The Strand and the Public Library. We can hit Bryant Park and Union Square on the way. Maybe the National Museum of Mathematics?" He nodded eagerly and she smiled. "Okay, I'll add that to our list for sure. And of course we've got to get you a real New York bagel while you're here. It's a rite of passage."

It was decided that they'd visit the Library first, given that it was closest. After coffee, they set out from the apartment, and she led him through a maze of streets, past towering skyscrapers and subway stations. He had to keep from staring up for too long in awe at the way so much was crammed into such a small space. It was overwhelming, the city. With its noise and crowds and rush and smell. But if he was with her, it was okay. They talked as they went, and he found himself rambling more than he meant to, but she never cut him off. There was something about her that made him feel he could say anything, and she wouldn't find him boring or weird. As they passed Grand Central Station, he paused to stare at the huge windows, the sunlight reflecting off of them. The feeling of wonder was interrupted when someone roughly bumped into him, knocking him to the side. As Reid regained his balance, he realized he'd completely lost sight of Bianca.

He turned around, looking frantically in every direction. The street was so crowded, the pavement entirely packed with bodies going and coming and going. Where was she? Where was she? She was so small, it was easy for her to disappear. It was likely they'd been separated by chance, but his mind was already running through the worst possible outcomes, fearing that in the seconds it had taken to lose her, she could get hurt. Then, by some miracle, he caught a glimpse of the bright blue headband she had on. Reid dodged through the crowd, keeping his eyes on that flash of blue all the while.

Relief flooded through him, and before he knew what he was doing, he'd grabbed onto her hand. Bianca spun around in surprise, looking just as relieved to see him. "Oh thank goodness," she sighed. "For a second, I was worried I'd lost you."

Her hand squeezed his in reassurance, and it was then that he'd realized they were holding hands, and why he'd grabbed hers in the first place. He didn't want to lose her. He didn't want to lose her in any way. Now that he'd found someone he could talk to, someone who made him feel so much lighter and so much happier, someone with whom he felt he could share anything, he didn't want to _lose_ her.

Reid hated shaking hands and touching other people, but when they started walking again, he decided not to let go of her hand for no other reason than that it felt nice. It felt right to have her fingers wrapped around his. It felt nice to be with her, to be able to touch her and see her. The exact sound of a laugh, a smile, a person's gestures were all lost over the phone. This was better. This was so much _better_. There was no denying it now – Bianca Brown had a hold on his heart as well.

* * *

She pried open the screen of her laptop while hurriedly trying to unbutton her coat. A few quick clicks in Skype and seconds later, his face was popping up on the screen as she undid her scarf. "I'm so sorry," she said, slightly out of breath from the dash up the stairs. "I was coming from a party in Brooklyn and the train got delayed, as always."

"No, it's okay," Spencer said. "I hope you didn't have to leave early on my behalf."

"It was an engagement party for two of my friends," she explained. "And I love them both but Maggie and Sarah-Jane had to leave early and that left me with a bunch of Nathaniel's college friends. You can only listen to a bunch of Ivy League poli-sci majors play devil's advocate for so long."

"You say that as if you didn't go to Stanford."

"For _graduate _school. It's different," she laughed. "Anyways, I always end up feeling a little awkward with people I don't know that well. I start worrying that they don't like me or that I don't belong and then just end up overthinking it all."

On her screen, he smiled at her. "I know the feeling. But for what's it worth, you never seemed that way when we met."

Bianca shrugged. "It was different with you." Everything was different with Spencer. He'd come out of nowhere and completely turned her life upside down. She'd never imagined she would be running across boroughs to Skype someone hundreds of miles away late at night or that she would want to hear someone's voice so badly. But when he finally had a free evening to chat without work pulling him away, she found herself desperate for an opportunity to talk with him.

He made her feel so comfortable. Though he couldn't make her doubts and insecurities vanish, she didn't usually worry when she was talking with him. Perhaps afterwards, when her mind was quiet and she was alone, but when she could hear his voice, see his face even through a laptop screen, it was better.

They caught up on each other's lives and weeks, what they were reading and what had them thinking, inevitably falling into deep discussion that led them on a winding curve through dozens of tangents. It was just so natural with him.

"I wish it wasn't so hard to find time to talk with you," she admitted, leaning back into her couch, a dazed smile sent in his direction.

"Well," he said, leaning closer. "I was thinking maybe… you know, if you wanted to, I could show you around D.C. the next time our weekend schedules align? Since you let me come visit you and everything, and I haven't been able to call as much lately?"

"I would love that," she said, her heart leaping. She could see him again, face to face. Spend another weekend with him wandering a city, without being drawn away by other responsibilities.

"Oh, good." He sounded relieved, as if he hadn't been sure she'd agree. "I – I miss you." The syllables slightly hesitant, as he tried them out. Testing the waters.

"I miss you too," she replied. And there was so much feeling in that echoed exchange, so many sentiments that couldn't be shared just yet, sandwiched into those three safe words.

* * *

Morgan and Prentiss had both attempted to discern why he was in such a rush to leave early, but he'd made a hasty excuse about a neighbor's dog that needed walking – never mind they both knew dogs hated him – and hurried out of Quantico. An hour later he was standing at the train station, waiting, bouncing impatiently on the balls of his feet. All week he'd been eager for Friday to arrive, so _she_ would arrive, but now that it was finally here he could hardly stand to wait another second. Reid thought he'd been excited to see her in New York last month, but that was nothing compared to the anticipation he was currently experiencing. He was in deeper than he ever thought he'd find himself.

When he finally spied her across the station, he couldn't help but grin. He saw that same smile reflected on her face, and her walk towards him turned into a jog, and something about the sheer joy of reunion led him to open his arms just before Bianca reached him, and he found himself hugging her for the first time since the conclusion of the Okello case. He'd lost track of how many times he'd played back that moment, but this was far better than a memory. Hugs weren't really his thing, save for a desperate few moments of life and death in the field, but embracing her made him feel so alive, so present. It felt so nice to have her in his arms, to feel the pressure of her arms around his waist. When she finally pulled away he had to fight not to hold her close once more.

Bianca smiled up at him. "It's so good to see you," she sighed. He was in quite deep. But he would happily drown for her.

* * *

He insisted on seeing her off, and accompanied her to Union Station. Two days hadn't been long enough, she wasn't ready to leave again. When she first moved to New York, the city felt far too big, a maze of streets she struggled to memorize. With time, it had become easier to navigate, and the sprawling expanse of the city suddenly felt cozy. And now, it felt small. Too small, because it wasn't big enough to include him in it.

All the lights of the city felt dull without him. His smile was so much brighter, and it was getting harder and harder to be apart from him. It was dangerous territory they were wading into. She wasn't sure what to name it. When he looked at her, her heart beat faster, and after one of their phone calls, it was impossible for her to think of anything but Spencer. They weren't dating, per se, it was all but impossible with the distance, but she cared deeply for him and as far as she could tell he felt the same way.

Certainly there was something there, for when she had arrived in DC, he had hugged her, and when they walked up and down the DC sidewalks, he held her hand. Notorious for his avoidance of physical contact and germs, he didn't seem to mind with her. That had to count for something, right?

"I don't think a weekend has ever gone so fast," she said, her fingers laced through his so as not to lose him in the crowd of people on the platform.

"I wish we had more time together." There was that look, the gentle smile he directed at her that affected her heart so.

"What if you came back up to New York in a few weeks? My job is winding down, and I'd have some free time. If you want to."

"I would love to." The whistle of the train blew, an overhead announcer informing them that it would be departing shortly. "You'd better get going. As much as I'd like you to stay, I don't want you to miss your train."

She nodded, grinning that he'd said he wanted her to _stay_. He wanted her around. Near him. Just as she wanted to be close to him. Whatever this feeling was, they shared it. They walked up to the door of the train, and he squeezed her hand, in a silent farewell.

Bianca turned to hug him, but as she looked at him, this man who made her so happy, who wanted her to stay, she was seized by a moment of courage. Standing on her toes, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and hopped up the step onto the train just before the doors closed. An older woman standing inside gave her a bemused look. Face red, heart pounding, she hardly noticed as she hurried to her seat. Outside the window the platform was still visible. There was Spencer, standing just as she'd left him, looking entirely dumbstruck.

Had she made a mistake? Was that taking things too far, too soon?

Then he raised his hand to his cheek, blinking rapidly, and smiled.

This was a new smile, one full of such tenderness that she swore she could've melted then and there.

Oh, she was in deep. Just visiting him, living two-hundred and twenty-four point nine miles apart (a number she knew only because he'd told her so) wasn't going to be enough anymore.

* * *

**A/N: For the sake of space/plot, I glossed over a lot of their early relationship and here I am making an excuse to post these haha**


	3. Pinky Promise

He insisted on seeing her off, and accompanied her to Union Station. Two days hadn't been long enough, she wasn't ready to leave again. When she first moved to New York, the city felt far too big, a maze of streets she struggled to memorize. With time, it had become easier to navigate, and the sprawling expanse of the city suddenly felt cozy. And now, it felt small. Too small, because it wasn't big enough to include him in it.

All the lights of the city felt dull without him. His smile was so much brighter, and it was getting harder and harder to be apart from him. It was dangerous territory they were wading into. She wasn't sure what to name it. When he looked at her, her heart beat faster, and after one of their phone calls, it was impossible for her to think of anything but Spencer. They weren't dating, per se, it was all but impossible with the distance, but she cared deeply for him and as far as she could tell he felt the same way.

Certainly there was something there, for when she had arrived in DC, he had hugged her, and when they walked up and down the DC sidewalks, he held her hand. Notorious for his avoidance of physical contact and germs, he didn't seem to mind with her. That had to count for something, right?

"I don't think a weekend has ever gone so fast," she said, her fingers laced through his so as not to lose him in the crowd of people on the platform.

"I wish we had more time together." There was that look, the gentle smile he directed at her that affected her heart so.

"What if you came back up to New York in a few weeks? My job is winding down, and I'd have some free time. If you want to."

"I would love to." The whistle of the train blew, an overhead announcer informing them that it would be departing shortly. "You'd better get going. As much as I'd like you to stay, I don't want you to miss your train."

She nodded, grinning that he'd said he wanted her to _stay_. He wanted her around. Near him. Just as she wanted to be close to him. Whatever this feeling was, they shared it. They walked up to the door of the train, and he squeezed her hand, in a silent farewell.

Bianca turned to hug him, but as she looked at him, this man who made her so happy, who wanted her to stay, she was seized by a moment of courage. Standing on her toes, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and hopped up the step onto the train just before the doors closed. An older woman standing inside gave her a bemused look. Face red, heart pounding, she hardly noticed as she hurried to her seat. Outside the window the platform was still visible. There was Spencer, standing just as she'd left him, looking entirely dumbstruck.

Had she made a mistake? Was that taking things too far, too soon?

Then he raised his hand to his cheek, blinking rapidly, and smiled.

This was a new smile, one full of such tenderness that she swore she could've melted then and there.

Oh, she was in deep. Just visiting him, living two-hundred and twenty-four point nine miles apart (a number she knew only because he'd told her so) wasn't going to be enough anymore.

* * *

He was curled up in his armchair, the phone cradled carefully in his hand. For nearly two straight hours they'd been talking, laughing about things she'd seen on the New York Streets, discussing the latest books they'd read. Everything and nothing. She'd just laughed at one of his dumb puns and that laugh sounded so lovely that everything else in the world was momentarily forgotten.

"I missed your laugh," he sighed, not even stopping to consider the words before speaking them. "I miss you. I wish you were here."

"I miss you, too," she murmured, and his heart physically ached to be nearer to hers. There was a silence before she spoke again, her words tied up by a quiet tension. "Listen, Spencer, I don't want to put any pressure on you, and I don't need to put a label on anything right now. But this… us… is this a _thing_?"

"A thing?" he repeated. Reid shifted the phone to his other ear, frowning. A faint beam of evening sun came through his window. "I don't think I understand."

He could almost picture her, eyebrows furrowed, trying to untangle her thoughts. "I mean," she said, "is this relationship something more than friends? I don't need a word for it," she added quickly. "I guess I just wanted you to know that I'm not, um, seeing anyone else. And I'm not planning to. And I really like you."

Oh. That sort of "thing." It was something he'd wondered himself. It certainly felt like more than a friendship, much more than that. Friends held hands sometimes, but when he held hers there was something different about it. His skin felt warmer, the action felt more significant, and he was never quite ready to let go. Friends kissed each other on the cheek sometimes, he supposed, but when she had done so on the platform it hadn't felt like an act of friendly reassurance or parting. There had been a message in the brief contact of lips to skin, one that had left him feeling acutely aware of his cheek for the rest of the day.

And friends missed each other, but not in the way he missed her. There was something new in that longing, not just a desire to be close to her or to know her better. It was a need to have her with him, to be able to hold her and hear her laugh. He wanted to be the cause of her laugh, wanted to be able to share things with her like bookstores and parks and coffees. He wasn't sure what to call it, or what to call her in relation to himself, but he knew it was more than friendship.

He'd never been good at distinguishing different types of affection, but Reid had rarely felt like this before. This was unique.

"I'm not seeing anyone else either," he replied. "Nor am I planning to. It's just you. And I really like you, too. "

* * *

When a certain Bianca Brown had reached out to him over social media asking for his help surprising Reid, Morgan was happy to comply. He gave her the best route to take into Quantico, made sure she'd get through security okay, and passed along what time to expect Reid to be leaving work and through which door. But he hadn't counted on the kid being so damn eager to finish paperwork. At 5:30 he was still sitting there at the desk. Morgan wandered to the edge of the bullpen to glance out the window, where he could just barely make out the shape of the woman in the parking lot. Waiting.

He had to admit, he was proud that Reid had gotten to this point – that he had a relationship, someone who made him happy – but some things never changed, and it seemed that he still needed a little bit of a push in the right direction when it came to romance.

Morgan sat down on the edge of the desk. "Hey, Pretty Boy. You've done enough. You oughta head out." Reid tried to protest, but he was insistent. Surrendering to peer pressure, Reid packed up his things and Morgan watched him go. He grabbed a stack of the paperwork and put it on his own desk. There was nobody waiting for him right now, and he could handle a little extra bureaucracy if it meant knowing the kid was happy. He made his way back to the window, where he could now see both of them, just barely able to make out their expressions. But then he saw Reid lean in and kiss her. Saw her put her arms around him.

Morgan couldn't help but smile. It was about time Reid had something good in his life. With a feeling of pride, he quickly sent a text to Reid, just enough to hint that he had something to do with this, hoping that his happiness on Reid's behalf would be evident within the words.

* * *

One of the priorities on her list of things to do after moving was to find the best spots for books. Bianca peered around the corner of one of the vast, tall shelves in the store, searching for the sight of Spencer's familiar cardigan. They were browsing through the bookstore together, enjoying the newfound freedom of inhabiting the same city. The space was theirs to share, and she was more than happy to take full advantage of it. Yesterday, Spencer had shown up at her apartment to confess his past, and today she was looking to lift his spirits with the present. To show him that she wasn't going anywhere, not now that they could be together – truly, really together.

Finally she spotted the navy-knit back of his sweater tucked away in a poetry aisle. As she approached, he turned around and the smile on his face disarmed her. It would take some getting used to, this closeness. The ease and wonder of every interaction she kept having to remind herself wasn't going to vanish tomorrow.

'There you are," he said. "Look at this." Spencer pointed to a sign on the wall between shelves advertising a poetry open mic night at the bookstore. "They do it every week."

"We should come sometime," she suggested, already a little giddy at the idea of planning future dates. The future was a thing for them now.

"We should. Maybe – maybe you could even do a reading?"

"Oh no, no. I'd be too nervous."

"Why not? I've read your work. It's good. Why not perform it?"

Bianca glanced at her feet trying to find the right words. "Because if you're there I'll be so worried about what you would thing I'd forget my own words. I… and I want you to think I'm – I don't know, good at this?" She was always a little nervous to share her writing, but Spencer's opinion mattered to her. Though she knew she didn't need it, she wanted his approval. She wanted him to like her, because she liked him so much.

"Please?" he asked, his look becoming a puppy dog-like pout. "Just once?" Those pleading eyes were impossible to refuse.

"Okay. One time. But you have to sit in the back so I can't see you okay?"

His smile returned. "Okay."

"Cross your heart?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, _cross your heart and hope to die, stick a needle in your eye_?" She traced an 'x' with her finger over her heart for emphasis. He shook his head, evidently confused by the expression. "You've really never heard that? It's something kids say when they're making each other swear to something. Sort of a way to guarantee they'll keep their promise because of the unpleasant consequences."

"Surely there are easier ways to keep your word," he said, eyebrows knit together.

"Well, it's just a manner of speaking. But there are easier ways," she agreed, now feeling eager to teach him something. "Like pinky promises." Bianca reached for his hand, pulling so that their arms were extended between them. Her pinky wound around his to demonstrate the gesture.

"And handshakes." She shifted her hand so that they touched palm to palm, then interlaced their fingers and shook his hand. "And of course," she added, "you can always seal it with a kiss." Her lips found his, and he held her hand a little bit tighter. With the newness of it all, she'd been worried he might pull away or be hesitant, but he responded enthusiastically and she could feel her whole body relax.

They were still feeling this out, making sense of it. And while she'd gotten used to having vulnerable conversations about things that hurt – as much as one could get used to such a thing – there was still a part of her that was scared to share that with him. Because she wanted him so badly to understand, to accept her. The things she carried weren't exactly light. Her family was a mess. There was a part of her that kept walls up when it came to love and commitment for fear of being hurt – or worse, hurting someone else. There was always that quiet voice in the back of her head telling her she wasn't good enough. A part of her that was convinced maybe she wasn't quite worthy of being loved. And that perhaps someday he would realize that.

But he was still there. After what she'd shared, he still wanted to be with her too. He was still willing to kiss her in a hidden corner of the bookstore, and pull away with a grin on his face that made her feel some kind of wonderful. "I think I'm partial to the latter," he said.

* * *

"Maybe when you get back we can go check out that new exhibit at the National Gallery?"

He smiled. "That sounds perfect. We should be done in a day or two."

"Just be careful, okay? I love you."

"I will be. I love you too." Reid hung up the phone, leaning back against the hotel bed, sighing. Alaska was so far when wat he wanted was to be near to her.

"Everything okay in paradise, Pretty Boy?" asked Morgan, from across the room. He'd come by to go over the profile, and was patiently waiting for Reid to finish his conversation.

"Huh? I mean, yeah."

"You just look a little uncomfortable for someone who just got off the phone with their girl."

He put his phone back into his pocket, and stood up from the bed. "Well, I guess I am, a little."

Morgan raised his eyebrows. "That can't be good. You've been together for what, four months now? What about her makes you uncomfortable?" His tone took on a wariness that reminded Reid of an older brother. The team still viewed him as the baby, and they would defend him in an instant should the relationship not work out.

Hoping to clear up the misunderstanding, he shook his head. "It's not like that. What makes me uncomfortable is how _comfortable _I feel around her. That I don't mind when she's touching me, or when she wants me to dance with her. When I'm falling asleep I'm thinking of her. After we've been away on a case for a few days, all I can think about is how much I just want to hold her. And I've never felt that way about anyone before."

For so long he shied away from physical touch, but with her he craved it. He needed to be near her, to feel the way her fingers fit perfectly into the spaces between his, or how when he kissed her, he didn't have to focus on anything else. With Bianca, he didn't worry about looking silly. The things that typically made him self-conscious – his appearance, his uncoordination, his rambling manner of speech – didn't bother him as much. She made those doubts disappear.

She cleared away thoughts of cases and killers and unsubs. He could just get lost in her, focus on how good it felt and how much he wanted to make her feel good. The afternoon spent on the rug of his living room was still clear in his mind, a remnant of warmth running through him whenever he recalled the feeling of her fingertips roaming over his body. Of his own hands tracing the curves and angles of hers.

Sometimes it scared him how comfortable he was with her. It felt too good to be true, and he often wondered how someone like him had managed to find someone so incredible. He worried he didn't deserve her. When he voiced this fear, she just laughed and said that she was the lucky one, that she didn't understand why he chose her.

And when she first said she loved him? He'd never known three words could sound so beautiful. She loved him. She _loved_ him. And as much as it thrilled him to say it, he couldn't seem to get enough of saying it back to her either.

Morgan shrugged. "All of those things sound like good things to me."

Reid took a seat in the armchair across from him, grabbing a case file. "I mean, they are. It's just… I don't know, I feel like good things don't really last for me. Maybe that's what scares me."

"Good things don't just happen. You have to work at them." Morgan flipped open his file. "So if you want this to last, do something about it." As they got to work on the profile, narrowing down the potential suspects in this small town, he couldn't help but notice the stars outside the window. When he got back, he could do just that – do something to let her know that he wanted this to last.


	4. Better Together

He often thought about her when he was away, but everything had changed when they realized the unsub was a teenager. As they chased Jeremy Sayer throughout the Midwest, she was on his mind. Every crime scene changed in retrospect. Why did they suddenly feel more violent, more dangerous than they had before? When Reid walked the Archer scene with Rossi, why did he feel so outraged and so scared at once?

It wasn't until Jeremy held his sister hostage that it hit him. Jeremy reminded him of the Bianca's brother, the stories she'd told him. He hadn't been able to stop himself from wondering what would've happened if Rick Brown had been more violent. More sociopathic. What if he'd hurt her that way? What if he still did? The thought terrified him. And at the same time it provoked an anger in him that startled him. He couldn't stand the thought of someone wanting to hurt her. Maybe that's why it was so difficult to watch Jeremy hold a knife to Carrie.

This was what happened when you loved someone, he realized. You made connections on cases. You saw them in the victims. You saw that someday, if things went wrong, they could be a victim. How absolutely terrifying.

When Reid returned to DC, the first thing he wanted to do was see her. Even though he knew, logically, she was safe, he felt a strange need to prove it to himself. That nobody had hurt her while he was away.

"Sorry about the mess," she said when he arrived. "I'm almost done with dinner."

"Don't worry about it." He slipped off his shoes, setting his bag by the door. "It smells amazing, whatever it is."

"Pasta al limon, chicken in a white wine sauce, and sautéed zucchini."

"It sounds amazing too," he laughed.

Bianca hurried back over to the stove to pour something from a pot into a pan. "Have you eaten yet? I made plenty if you want a plate."

He hadn't, and the delicious aromas in the kitchen made him all too aware of the hollowness in his stomach. "That would be great, thank you." He went to the sink to get them both glasses of water, watching as she darted about the counters, opening cabinets and throwing spices on things. Her eyes bright as they danced over shelves, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the stove. He observed the curve of her hips as she stood on her toes to grab something from higher up. She was lovely, and he was perfectly content to admire her as she finished plating the food, knowing he couldn't be of any use in the culinary realm.

"Voila," she said, placing two plates of food on the table. "Table for two." He folded his napkin in his lap while she bowed her head in quick, silent prayer. The steam was still rising from the pasta and the vegetables. In that brief moment he couldn't help but think how domestic it felt. It would be so nice if after every case he could come home to her. When she looked up again, he eagerly grabbed for utensils, feeling more ravenous now that the meal was before him than he had when he arrived.

The moment Reid tried it he realized that it somehow tasted even better than it smelled. "Oh my god." He set the fork down. "You _made_ all of this?" Looking a little hesitant, she nodded. "It's good! It's really good! I know you said you could cook, but you can _cook_." It was warm, perfectly savory, with just the perfect balance of herbs and flavor. He didn't know much about cooking, but he knew when something tasted good. Reid eagerly went to take another bite, but Bianca's giggle stopped him. "What is it?" he asked, noticing the way she was staring at him. "Did I say something wrong?

"No, not at all," she said. "It's just… well, you know I have a weird relationship with food. Eating is more of a chore for me, and cooking is how I try to make it feel a little more fun while still feeling in control. But it's really nice to see someone take such delight in what I make. The way a meal is meant to be enjoyed."

He let himself pause in that moment to take in the smile that stretched the freckles on her face, the way her eyes seemed to shine when she was looking at him. She was okay. Bianca was safe. She was here. What had happened to those families hadn't touched her. And when he felt certain of that, he finally took another bite of food, and told her, "Well, it's a sacrifice I'm more than willing to make if you ever need to be reminded. I can hardly make toast without burning it."

"Well you're always welcome here," Bianca said. Her smile sent his heart skipping. "Which reminds me – you sounded a little anxious when you called and asked to come by earlier. I'm always happy to see you, but is everything okay?"

Reid twirled pasta on his fork. "Yeah, it's okay!" It was now. But she didn't look convinced. He owed her honesty. "I mean… it is now. The case, it was just a hard one. And I missed you."

"What happened? On the case, I mean." Visions of Nebraska flashed through his mind. The bodies, the homes turned into crime scenes, the rage that someone so young could possess. He wanted to forget.

Reid sighed. "B, I don't know if it's a good idea to-"

"Spencer," she interrupted. "I worked a case with you once. I can handle it, I promise."

"It's not that. I just don't want to bother you with this. It's heavy."

Bianca reached across the table to take his hand. "So let me share the burden. You've done so much for me. You encourage me when work is hard, you surprised me with the stars, you put up with my _parents_, for God's sake. Let me be there for you too."

When she looked at him like that, it was so hard to say no. After all, he had been told again and again by the Bureau that it was important to talk through trauma with someone he trusted and there were few people he trusted as much as he trusted her. If he wanted to keep her in his life, he had to let her into it, even the darker parts. Perhaps alone, it wouldn't be such a heavy burden to bear. Reluctantly, he agreed. They finished eating, and as they stood by the sink doing the dishes together, he told her about it – leaving out some of the gore but letting himself share the things he felt as he worked. The shock and sorrow he tried so hard not to let show when he was on a case.

They moved to the couch as she asked him questions. She held his hand, keeping him grounded in the now as she did so. Connected to her. "I guess it's bothering me so much because of you," he admitted.

"Because of my brother?"

Reid nodded. "I just kept thinking about what you had to go through, and what could've happened. I just got so scared that something like that could happen to you." The notion was terrifying. Now that she was in his world, he couldn't imagine life without her in it. "I guess that's part of why I wanted to come see you. I just needed to remind myself that you were safe."

Bianca caressed his cheek. "I am safe. I'm here. I'm with you."

He leaned into her touch, letting it wash away his fears. "I know. I just… I'm not used to feeling this way. But I know that I'm only scared because I love you." The words still felt so new on his tongue each time he said them.

"I love you, too." But oh how sweet they sounded when she echoed them back. "And it's still strange for me – worrying about you all the time when you're gone. But I'm really happy that you told me about it."

She let her head fall against his chest and he hugged her close, holding her tight as if an embrace alone could protect them both. And she was right. Somehow, he felt a little lighter now. A little better because of her.

* * *

Penelope had convinced her to come out for a night of drinks with the women of the BAU, and feeling pleasantly surprised, she'd agreed. Spencer had been a little disappointed to discover she had plans for the night, but he seemed happy that his worlds were coming together. By the time Bianca arrived with Penelope, Emily was already on her second glass of wine.

"Finally, we can really get this girl's night going!" she said, waving the bartender over.

JJ abandoned her beer on the table to hug them both, Garcia holding her close. "I missed you so so SO much, you have no idea!" she said. It had been almost a month since she'd been forced out of the BAU.

"I miss you too," JJ assured her, with a smile that struck Bianca as sadder than her voice let on. "But I promise I'm not going anywhere. Tonight's for fun things, not for sad things, yeah?"

"Yes, yes, of course!" Penelope agreed. "Bianca, since this is your very first Girl's Night, your first drink is on us. So what'll it be?"

"Really? Are you sure?" she asked.

"You're part of the family!" Emily said. "Just don't order shots – yet." She winked.

Bianca laughed. "I've never really been good at shots – I'm a total lightweight. But a Moscow Mule would be great."

Penelope passed the bartender her card. "One Moscow Mule and one Tequila Sunset, please and thank-you, my good sir." The drinks arrived quickly, and soon they were all catching up on where the team had been traveling lately, why lobbying politicians was so frustrating, and how Henry's first words were progressing. Emily had them all in tears laughing as she regaled them with a story of the time she taught the French ambassador's daughter how to tango in secret before a gala. After her second cocktail, Penelope insisted they play "Never Have I Ever," and it took only ten questions before Prentiss was eliminated.

"You lose," JJ teased.

Emily tossed back the rest of her wine. "I think you mean I _win_," she retorted, with a smirk. "Bianca, what's your ruling?"

"I have to agree with Emily," she said. "She did nearly get arrested, but I think the fact that she successfully snuck backstage at a Nirvana concert before hand means she's out of the game but sorely besting us at life."

"See, I _knew _you'd be the perfect addition to these nights," Emily said. "I had a good feeling about you from the moment I saw you and Reid making at eyes at each other in New York."

"What?" Bianca spluttered. "We weren't – I mean we-"

"Oh come on, you two had chemistry," JJ chimed in. "I'd never seen him so happy after a case."

"And anyone who makes our Boy Genius that happy is a quality human being in our book," said Penelope. "Which was only confirmed when he brought you to dinner at Rossi's. You're so good for him, you know? It had been so long since I saw him smile that much. He's actually living a life now instead of living just for this job!"

"What do you mean?" Bianca asked, taking a sip of the drink she'd been nursing all night.

"You didn't see him before he met you," JJ said. "He never did anything on the weekends, and always spent way too much time at work. It was hard for him to relate to people sometimes, so he would just kind of close himself off."

"Really?" Bianca knew he was introverted and sometimes socially awkward, but she couldn't imagine him hiding away from everyone all the time. That didn't sound like the Spencer she knew. "We're always going to museums or parks or something together. He even came dancing with me."

"Dancing?" Emily asked. "Oh I need video evidence of that, stat."

"Believe you me, he almost never went out. If he did something for the weekend, it was always like a chess tournament or a lecture or something like that," Garcia said.

"Oh and remember how we'd get called out on weekends for a case? We'd all bemoan our ruined plans and he'd say, _Oh I didn't have plans_, all smug-like?" Prentiss added. "I think he was actually happy then to have a case."

"Looking back, I think he was just happy to have people to spend the weekend with. So he wouldn't be by himself," JJ mused.

"You think I did that?" Bianca asked, dumbfounded.

Prentiss nodded. "If you heard the way he talked about you, you'd understand. You're good for him. And we're all glad about that."

He was good for her too. He accepted all the things about her she worried made her unworthy of love. He welcomed her into a family he'd found for himself and made her feel right at home in a way she never had before. She felt braver when she was with him – felt more like herself. There wasn't anything she had to hide or cover up. And she liked the way he made her feel. But to hear that she made a difference in his life too – it made her feel warm in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. They were good together, weren't they? Good for each other.

Spencer made her feel invincible. Things were changing – his unexplained migraines, JJ getting fired, her career in question – but as long as they were together, it would be okay. They were better together.

* * *

"What are you saying?" she asked, her voice wavering.

He exhaled. "What I'm saying is that… I don't have the time to…" God he couldn't say it. He had to say it. He had to cut whatever ties she still had to him. After the distance he'd put between them the last few months, he thought it would be far easier, that she would be glad to be rid of him. Instead she only tried to keep him closer. And it would have been so easy to stay. "I mean – I can't keep doing this. Us." He gestured to the space between them, intentionally created, and hopes she gets the message.

"Oh." She straightened herself up and met his eyes. In their depths tears began to brim, and it clear how badly she was trying not to cry. He was hurting her, and she was trying to stay strong, and he hated himself in that moment. More than anything he didn't want to hurt her. It physically pained him to see how hard this was for her. All he wanted was to take her into his arms and promise her it would be all right and that he loved her. Already he missed the feeling of her body in his embrace, pressed against his chest. His head and his heart were fighting an impossible battle, but he knew the only way he could keep her safe from the looming threat of schizophrenia and loss was to let her go.

He could never force her to stay while he fell apart. She deserved better than that. Jaw tight, he struggled to hold his emotions in. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just… I'm so _tired._ And I need to focus on my work and on my team. They're the ones who matter. They're my family." There was still a spark of determination on her face that told him he wasn't quite ready to let him go. Until the very end she would be willing to fight for them. It would take the lowest of blows to keep her from chasing him down. Something to strike to the most vulnerable parts of her heart. He took a deep breath then added, "I need to be around my family. And you wouldn't understand that either."

Once the words left his lips, he instantly regretted them, watching as she flinched as though hit. That was supposed to be off-limits. He knew just how much she wanted to feel like part of a family. That had been his promise to her, to_be _her family. How could he just abandon her like this?

"I thought – I thought I should tell you in person. Sorry." Reid swallowed hard as she stood there, staring wide-eyed up at him. He had to shove his hands into his pockets to keep himself from reaching for her. Her lip quivered, and he wavered on the edge, so ready to tell her it was only to protect her, that he didn't mean a word of it, that he still loved her. Somehow he managed to restrain himself, muttering a hasty excuse. "Goodbye, Bianca."

That was the last image he had of her, red-faced with tears in her brown eyes, looking utterly devastated as he left her alone. Reid turned around and walked down the hall, every step a punch in the gut.

_Goodbye, my best friend. Goodbye, my greatest love. Goodbye to the one person who makes me feel normal. Goodbye to the one person who feels like home. Goodbye to all the promises I made to you. To us._

He never did like goodbyes. Reid practically ran down the stairs of the building, shaking the whole way down. Only when he reached the safety of his car did he allow himself to break down. Tears came in violent sobs he'd been holding back since she opened that apartment door. He cried loudly, not caring if anyone in the parking lot saw him. With what he'd said, he knew there was no chance she would have followed him down. So hard was he gripping the steering wheel, desperate for something to hold onto, that his knuckles were turning pale.

He fought to take in enough air with every bone-shaking sob he choked out. How could he do this to her? How could he possibly live with himself knowing how much he'd hurt her? And what about him? Could he really throw away everything he'd come to believe in since meeting her?

He had to.

Emily's death had broken each member of his team. His mother's illness had devastated him. It wasn't fair, to ask Bianca to suffer through losing someone like that. It wasn't fair of him to hold her back. There was no reason for her to stay in DC to care for her crazy boyfriend when she could be abroad, chasing down her dreams. Surely it was only a matter of time before he lost his mind. He put his head into his hands and screamed.

This was the right thing to do.

But god, did it hurt. Hurt so much he couldn't breathe, knowing that she was probably crying alone in her room. Crying because of him. He'd hurt and betrayed her. It would be so easy to get out, walk back inside, climb the forty-two stairs to her apartment, knock on her door, and tell her it was all a lie. Maybe then he could hold her as he longed to do. He could tell her everything, all about how he was afraid he would end up like his mother, and that Emily's death had rattled him, and all he could think about was how much it hurt when people left him. His father. Gideon. Elle. Now, JJ and Emily.

Surely there was no logical explanation as to why it felt as though his chest literally had been split into two. A broken heart was just a metaphor. So why did he feel so broken?

It would hurt even more to know she'd given up on her dreams for the sake of staying with him through an illness that would only take him away in the end.

It took twenty-six minutes for him to stifle his tears enough that he could safely drive home, where he promptly curled under layers of blankets and wished she were there.

It hurt.

But it was better this way.


End file.
